


the days are young

by yeswayappianway



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: Zhenya has always known he’ll end up marrying for politics. He’s a third-born son of the Russian Kingdoms, which means unless he goes into the priesthood, a political marriage is absolutely in his future. If you asked him, he’d say something about how marriage seems far more exciting than being a priest, but the truth is, he’s never really given it any serious thought. Some of his friends had tried to speculate who it will be over the years, which Zhenya also hadn’t paid much mind to. This is all to say that when Zhenya finds out he is to marry the young prince of Sweden, he’s perhaps more surprised than he ought to be.





	the days are young

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Caps Monthly player prompt (Kuzy) and trope (marriage)
> 
> thank you VERY MUCH to coco for cheerleading and betaing this for me! also i love you <3
> 
> this is set in a very vague old-time-y time period, only slightly inspired by the queen's thief series by megan whalen turner, which isn't super relevant, but they're great books and i highly recommend them.
> 
> title from golden years, by david bowie, because a knight's tale is the most perfect movie ever made

Zhenya has always known he’ll end up marrying for politics. He’s a third-born son of the Russian Kingdoms, which means unless he goes into the priesthood, a political marriage is absolutely in his future. If you asked him, he’d say something about how marriage seems far more exciting than being a priest, but the truth is, he’s never really given it any serious thought. Some of his friends had tried to speculate who it will be over the years, which Zhenya also hadn’t paid much mind to. This is all to say that when Zhenya finds out he is to marry the young prince of Sweden, he’s perhaps more surprised than he ought to be.

It’s an easy match. He and Prince Andre are near enough in age, and the Swedish Kingdoms are one of their staunchest allies. From what he is told, they are of a similar temperament, which Zhenya takes to mean that Prince Andre is also given to talking back to his elders. What throws Zhenya off the most, though, is that as far as he knows, he’s never met this prince before. Given how much time both Zhenya and Ambassador Backstrom spend around General Ovechkin, this is genuinely surprising—Zhenya is passingly friendly with many of the Swedes because of it, and he tries to make a point of meeting everyone at least once. Because he’s nosy, Ambassador Backstrom says, but personally, Zhenya thinks it’s perfectly reasonable. Ambassador Backstrom is just strangely anti-social for a diplomat.

Regardless of what Zhenya may or may not know about Prince Andre, he is marrying him, and their betrothal ceremony is to be held soon. Zhenya sighs and submits himself to the endless task of being refitted for new sets of formal clothes, trying to cheer himself up by gossiping with the tailors. Whenever someone tries to ask how he feels about his upcoming marriage, he smiles widely, and changes the subject. 

\-----

Andre is having a crisis. Marcus scoffs when he says this, telling Andre that he’s always having a crisis, and none of them are important. He softens up a little when Andre says, “But I’ve never had a crisis about getting married before!”

“Well, what’s the crisis about getting married?” Marcus asks, sitting down next to Andre on the couch. Andre uncurls himself from the corner, and scoots closer to him. He can’t really make himself look at Marcus when he answers, though.

“What if… what if he’s horrible? Or what if he just doesn’t like me? It’s the rest of my life, and I don’t even know what he looks like!”

Marcus rolls his eyes, but he puts an arm around Andre’s shoulder anyway. “Andre, everyone likes you. Prince Evgeny isn’t bad looking, I’ve seen him before. And maybe he’s horrible, but if you’ll remember, Nicky likes him, so I think we can rule that one out, too.”

This is all very logical. It does nothing to calm the part of Andre that expects his betrothed to turn out to be an evil sorcerer, but maybe that part has read too many stories. Marcus is usually right. Andre still doesn’t feel happy about it, and he tells Marcus, who makes an indecipherable face.

“Andre, it’s a big change. Have you thought that maybe it’s not the person you’re marrying, but that you’re getting married at all? It’s pretty normal to be nervous about that,” Marcus says, slowly, like he thinks Andre hasn’t thought of this.

It’s Andre’s turn to roll his eyes. “Of course I know that getting married is a big deal. I’m a prince, so it will be a big wedding, too. But that doesn’t bother me. Neither of us is first in line for any throne, so it’s not like we’ll have more responsibility.” Marcus puts his head in his hands at that, but Andre keeps talking. “I just… I don’t want to spend the rest of my life stuck with someone who’s boring or rude or who doesn’t care about me.” Andre looks down. He knows it’s his responsibility to marry for the good of the Kingdoms, and he’s willing to do that. It’s more his speed than actually helping govern anything, so in a way, he’s grateful that it’s all he’s expected to do. But it hasn’t stopped him from imagining all kinds of ways married life could be terrible. And he really doesn’t know anything about Prince Evgeny, and—well. He doesn’t particularly want to ask Nicky—Ambassador Backstrom, he tries to correct himself—for several reasons.

“Hey,” says Marcus quietly. “I still think you’re thinking about this as a romance story too much, but it’s okay to be worried. I do think you and the Prince will be good, though. And if he’s really awful, I’ll punch him.” Andre perks up.

“You’d do that? It would be such a big spectacle!”

Marcus shrugs. “I have to look after you, and if it means punching a Russian prince, I guess that’s what I’ll do.” He looks at Andre, and very quickly adds, “But I’d rather not if I don’t have to!”

Cheered up by the prospect of Marcus, who’s usually a very calm advisor, punching this unknown prince in the face and starting a diplomatic incident, Andre gets up from the couch to go find out what he has to do before the betrothal ceremony.

\-----

Before it started, Zhenya assumed that the betrothal ceremony would be horribly long and boring. He was right. What he hadn’t counted on, though, is that Prince Andre is endearingly fidgety. Zhenya spends at least half of the ceremony watching his complete inability to sit still. They’ve barely exchanged words, even now, just a formal introduction before the speeches that make up the bulk of the ceremony, but Zhenya is already charmed.

He hadn’t been wrong about his “similar temperament” either. From what Zhenya has heard, the advisors and older royalty all seem to treat Andre as an exasperating younger brother, regardless of whether they’re actually related. Zhenya is genuinely excited to talk to him, although he knows that a penchant for causing trouble isn’t, perhaps, the best quality to have in both halves of a married couple. Faced with his actual intended spouse, Zhenya realizes the worst thing would have been if they were boring. At least now he knows that won’t be a problem.

The speeches drone on, advisors and royals and well-to-do guild artisans and even a delegation from the farmers whose homes apparently make up much of the area Prince Andre is from, and Zhenya sits, alternately glancing around the room to see the audience and watching Andre. Finally, they’re called up. Zhenya stands, just as he was coached, and walks with measured steps to the empty space before the podium, facing out to the crowd. Andre does the same thing on the other side, clearly having also been coached on exactly what to do. They stand there for a few more moments, listening to the crown princess of Russia talk about “our honored allies” and “long and peaceful marriage” and some other bland sentiments of politics disguised as matrimony. Zhenya recalls that he’s technically the one being given away, as Prince Andre is slightly higher ranked than he is, although he has a feeling that they might not end up staying in either Russia or Sweden if they’re given a choice. Zhenya isn’t quite as fidgety as Prince Andre, but he has his own restlessness.

They are directed to face each other, then, and take each other’s right hand. Zhenya nearly bursts out laughing when he thinks about the betrothal being signified by nothing less than a handshake. Sure, there’s all sorts of formal papers and proclamations, but it just seems so impersonal. He can’t keep the smile off his face completely, apparently, because the prince frowns slightly and asks, very quietly, “What?” They’re about to go back to their seats, so Zhenya very quickly whispers, trying not to move his mouth too obviously, “Tell you later.” Prince Andre doesn’t seems satisfied with this, but he releases Zhenya’s hand, and they walk back and take their seats. Andre’s hand had been very warm, and more calloused than Zhenya had expected.

\-----

Thank god Andre hadn’t actually fallen asleep during the ceremony, because it had been a close call. There was _so_ much talking. He thought he’d seen Prince Evgeny smiling at him a few times, but then—Andre still didn’t know what was up with that moment over the handshake. It had felt a little like he had been laughing at Andre, but he wouldn’t offer to tell him later, then, would he?

Speaking of Prince Evgeny, Andre doesn’t know what to think of him at all. He’d been planning on telling Marcus that he was full of shit, Prince Evgeny wasn’t good-looking, and then he’d seen him smirking at something before the ceremony. So maybe Marcus wasn’t actually wrong. Still, he wants to talk to him more before making a real judgement.

Luckily, the betrothal ceremony was to be followed by a fancy party (“ball, Andre, it’s a ball,” Marcus had said, exasperatedly, several times), and Andre was expected to dance with his betrothed. Dancing is one of the few activities Andre thinks of as approved royal pastimes that he actually enjoys, so he’s hopeful that Prince Evgeny will be a least a capable dance partner.

Andre isn’t paying much attention as he walks with Marcus to the ballroom, and mostly lets Marcus steer him towards a table. He manages to sit down for about two minutes before he gets bored. “Marcus, we’ve been sitting for an hour already,” he whines. “Isn’t this supposed to be a party?”

Marcus stares at him with his least impressed look. “It’s a ball, Andre, that means there’s a protocol to be followed.”

“Protocol can—” Andre knows he probably shouldn’t finish that sentence, but Marcus cuts him off anyway.

“Andre! We’re in public. Also, I found something to keep you occupied.” Marcus doesn’t look annoyed anymore, and Andre is suspicious of the gleam in his eye. He’s definitely right, because a quiet voice comes from behind him.

“Your Highness, may I join you?” It’s Prince Evgeny. Fuck. Andre was not prepared for this yet. Okay, he probably wouldn’t have been ready later, either, but it’s the principle of the thing.

“Yes, of course,” he stutters out, barely managing to hold back his instinctive ‘um’s. Prince Evgeny smiles at him, which makes Andre’s heart skip a beat, and then sits down in Marcus’s very recently vacated seat. Andre glares at Marcus’s retreating back, and turns back to his new companion.

“Your Highness,” Prince Evgeny starts, and Andre grimaces.

“Please don’t call me that. Andre is fine.”

“Well, in that case, call me Evgeny. Or Zhenya. We’re going to be married eventually anyway, no need to stand on formality,” he says, and Andre is very, very relieved.

“Oh good, I was worried you were going to be all _proper_ ,” says Andre, and immediately wants to wince. Marcus has been trying to drill into his head that he can’t just treat Prince Evgeny—Zhenya—like he does all his friends, that he needs to be respectful and polite, _at least at first, Andre, it’s important_. And yet, here he is, and—Evgeny, he decides, Zhenya feels like too much so soon—is smiling again.

“Now I know why I was told we’d get along well,” he says. “I’m always getting told that I don’t act appropriately to fit my title. But,” and Evgeny just shrugs, as if to say, _what can you do_? Andre feels a smile creeping onto his face.

Andre says, “My advisor tells me that there’s protocol to these sorts of things, but when we can, do you want to dance?”

Evgeny smiles again, and Andre can feel himself falling a little bit in love. “I’d love to.”

Andre is about to try and find a way to make everything speed up—he can still see people trickling into the ballroom and slowly making their way to their planned seats—but then he remembers. “What were you laughing about earlier?”

“Oh, that,” Evgeny looks a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to be that obvious, but it just seems silly that we’re going to be married and they show it with a handshake. I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t make sense,” he adds, looking away.

Andre is thrilled that he seems awkward about the answer, because he’d been afraid that he’d be the weird one of the two of them. “No, no, it makes sense! I was just worried that you were laughing at me.”

Making a face, Evgeny says, “Sorry, I realized that later. No, I was just laughing to myself. I do that sometimes.” He has a very expressive face. It’s attractive, even if Andre doesn’t entirely know why.

\-----

The next day, Zhenya plops down into a chair next to Sasha and Ambassador Backstrom at breakfast dejectedly. Sasha looks at him. “What, meeting your new husband didn’t go well?”

Zhenya rubs his hands over his face. “First of all, we aren’t married yet. Second of all, it went very well.”

“So why do you look like someone told you that your favorite food was gone forever?” Sasha asks, sounding largely disinterested. 

“Because he’s cute! I didn’t know he would be cute! I thought he was going to be boring and polite and we would get along well enough, and live our own lives, together when we needed to be, but mostly just minding our own business,” Zhenya knows he sounds like an idiot, but he feels like one.

Sasha exchanges a look with Ambassador Backstrom. “How is this a problem?”

Zhenya finally looks up at them. “Now I actually have to worry about if he likes me!” Sasha doesn’t even try not to laugh in his face.

Backstrom smiles, which is rare enough when it’s not directed at Sasha that Zhenya feels like he needs to pay extra attention. “Andre’s a good kid,” he says matter of factly. “You’ll know if he likes you, he’s not very good at hiding anything.”

Zhenya realizes something. “Do you know him? More than just because you’re both Swedish, I mean.”

Backstrom smiles again. “He lived with me for a year, when his family tried to make a diplomat of him. He was awful at it, but it was nice having him around. He’ll like you, I think. Actually, if I know him, he’s probably having exactly the same conversation right now with Marcus—his advisor.” First of all, Backstrom hasn’t ever said this much to Zhenya that wasn’t about official business, and second of all, he only expresses opinions when he has strong feelings about something, so Zhenya is actually reassured by all this. “Did he approve of your dancing?”

“I think so? We danced several times, anyway,” Zhenya says, worrying that maybe this was something else he missed.

“If Andre likes dancing with you, he probably likes you well enough,” Backstrom says fondly. “He’s horribly snobby about dance partners.”

Feeling much better about his prospects with regard to marriage and possibly getting his future husband to fall in love with him, Zhenya sits up properly in the chair, and starts eating his breakfast.

\-----

“What happened to being worried he’d be awful?” grumps Marcus. Andre ignores him in favor of humming happily. They have to do wedding preparation things today, which means Andre just has to stand around while other people make actual decisions. It’s his ideal kind of day, other than one where he doesn’t have to do anything at all.

“Come on, Marcus, you should be happy for me,” he says, nudging Marcus with his shoulder. “This time, I’m actually in love with someone I’m supposed to be in love with.”

Marcus looks a little shocked, like maybe he didn’t think Andre could joke about that. Or maybe it’s because Andre just said he was in love, which isn’t really accurate, but it sounds so much more fun than ‘is very attracted to and also wants to make him smile’. Marcus recovers quickly, though. “Does this mean we can start eating with Ambassador Backstrom again? Because avoiding him for the sake of you getting over your puppy love was very inconvenient.”

Andre pouts a little, but then gives up. He’s in too good of a mood to get annoyed at Marcus calling it ‘puppy love’. “If you can drag him away from the Russian Kingdoms, sure.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow. “Will I need to? Or will you be joining him in the Russian Kingdoms?” Andre shrugs. Marcus looks to the skies for guidance.

“You didn’t talk about it, did you? Or anything else useful?” he asks, but they aren’t really questions.

“I know Evgeny’s favorite meal, and that he’s a great dancer, and that he almost burst out laughing at his own joke in the middle of the betrothal ceremony, and that he’s still intimidated by Nicky,” Andre lists. He’s never gone on a date before, courtesy of everyone in the Kingdoms knowing he’ll be betrothed one day, but he imagines it’s what a first date would be like.

Marcus looks at him, seriously this time. “You really do like him, don’t you? Well, at least I get the chance to say I told you so, because I did.”

\-----

The time has passed curiously quickly. Zhenya has met with Andre several times. They’ve had serious discussions with input from their advisors about where they plan to live, if their titles will change, what language they plan to say their vows in. They also went for a ride in the countryside of the Russian Kingdoms, and attended a performance by several of the best musicians in the Swedish Kingdoms. Zhenya’s favorite, though, was the memorable occasion they managed to hide frogs in Ambassador Backstrom’s rooms, running away after the fact and giggling together in a back hallway of the castle. Everyone trying to get them to be responsible has largely despaired, since it’s become clear that they egg each other on very well.

Now, it’s almost the wedding date. There’s a few days of last minute preparation, but Zhenya is mostly just responsible for keeping himself out of trouble. To that end, he wanders to the library, planning to read or at least scheme in silence. He and Andre have the beginnings of a plan to play a trick on Sasha, and he thinks he can work out some details. Instead, when he gets there, he sees Andre’s advisor slumped on a table. Zhenya looks around to see if anyone else is around, and decides he should probably check on the man.

He gently pats Marcus’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asks, trying not to be too loud. Marcus startles awake.

“Wha— Who— Oh. I’m sorry, Prince Evgeny, I didn’t mean to be sleeping here,” he apologizes. Zhenya tries not to laugh at the bright red marks on his face where it had been pressed into the folds of his sleeves.

“Not a problem. Just wanted to make sure everything is alright. Also, please stop calling me that.” Zhenya had tried very hard to call him Advisor Johansson for about three days, before he’d given up in the face of Andre calling him Marcus constantly. Marcus hadn’t seemed to mind.

Now, he narrows his eyes. “The two of you are horribly perfect for each other. No decorum,” Marcus complains. “Yes, everything’s fine. I’ve just been so busy making sure everything is ready, I haven’t been getting much sleep.” He scrubs at his face.

“Can I help with anything?” asks Zhenya. It doesn’t seem fair that Marcus is working so hard when Zhenya’s the one getting married, and he’s just wandering around wasting time. “I can carry boxes, or copy seating plans. Whatever you need.”

There’s a pause as Marcus stares at him. Finally, he says, “That’s very kind of you. I would say, as a prince, it’s not your job, but I already know you don’t care about that. If you really want to help, I need some messages run around the castle.”

Zhenya claps his hands together. “Perfect! I know all the shortcuts to get everywhere, what am I delivering?”

Marcus puts his hand over his mouth, but it’s not enough to conceal his smile. Zhenya wants to jump for joy. He’s been trying to get Marcus to laugh since he met him the first time, so this is excellent progress. Marcus says, “Come on, the instructions I need delivered are in my office.”

\-----

Apparently, living in the same castle, no matter how temporarily, means that Nicky convinces Marcus to let him wake Andre up absurdly early. It’s just like it used to be when he lived with Nicky, waking up just after dawn to go practice with the guards. “Exercise is good for you,” Nicky would always say, as blandly as he could. Andre always thought that Nicky was full of shit and just wanted to see Andre suffer through mornings. He still thinks that, but at least now, Nicky isn’t making him spar with the guards as some sort of wake-up. They do some basic exercises, Andre stretching out his arms while Nicky lunges first to one side, then the other.

They’re leaning against the fence around the practice yard after that, Nicky not talking and Andre knowing better than to needle him before he’s ready. Finally, Nicky says, “I’m glad you and Evgeny are getting along well.” Andre turns to look at Nicky, but he’s just staring ahead, looking out at the practicing guards without really seeing.

Andre is sure there’s more, but Nicky doesn’t say anything for a while. Andre shifts against the fence, sticks his hands in his pockets, then crosses his arms, but manages to stay quiet. After another long pause, Nicky says, quietly, “I worried about you. I wasn’t sure you would end up with someone who respected you.”

“Evgeny does respect me, and he’s fun,” says Andre, touched that Nicky put this thought into it. He’s been gone a lot, travelling as Ambassador, and to spend time with General Ovechkin, and Andre had sort of thought Nicky had put him out of his mind.

Nicky looks at him this time, and smiles. “I know he does. The two of you are going to be a menace.” He looks like he might say something, but General Ovechkin chooses that moment to walk over.

“Nicky, guards don’t believe that you’re good in a fight. Want to prove them wrong?” he says, as if he isn’t in charge of the guards. Nicky rolls his eyes, but nods, and walks over to the practice ring.

Ovechkin takes Nicky’s place next to Andre at the fence. Andre has never known how to feel about him. He’s always been very nice to Andre, a bit indulgent, as if Andre was a child, but Andre had resented him for a while for stealing Nicky away. He’s pretty sure Ovechkin knows it, too, but he’d never acted any different. 

“Nicky finish his speech to you?” he asks, leaning back and watching where Nicky is removing his outer jacket and accepting a training sword from one of the guards. Andre shrugs.

“He said he was glad Evgeny respects me.”

Ovechkin nods, but then says, “Call him Zhenya. You two are close enough for that name now.”

Andre looks up at him. “What, like how Nicky calls you Sasha?”

“You can, too. You’re important to Nicky, and he’s important to me. Also, I like you,” Ovechkin pronounces, as certain as any royal decree.

Shaking his head, Andre says, “Can I call you Alex instead? It feels better.”

Ovechkin shrugs. “Sure.”

Andre waits for him to say something else, but he seems content to stand there and watch as Nicky very calmly disarms a guard. Andre laughs. “They have no idea how good he is, do they?”

“Not at all,” Ovechkin agrees brightly. Andre snickers again. He’s sparred with Nicky. It went horribly, and he looks forward to seeing it happen to someone else.

“Alex,” Andre finds himself asking, “did Nicky have something else to say? You asked if he finished his speech.”

“No,” says—Alex. “But I did. I like Zhenya. I was one of the people who suggested you would make a good match. Even then, you two get along better than I expected.” He finally turns to meet Andre’s gaze. “I’ll be very disappointed if you do something stupid to him. Like fall in love with Nicky again.”

Andre shrinks back, and then consciously stands back up. “I wouldn’t. I like Evgeny quite a lot, and—I know better than to treat him that way. Or Nicky,” Andre adds.

Alex smiles then, the intimidating look in his eyes largely negated by his genuine grin, complete with missing tooth. “Then everything is good. You and Zhenya will be very good together, I think.” He looks back at the practice, and cheers loudly when he sees Nicky standing over another guard, wooden sword held to the guard’s neck. Andre joins in, and sees Nicky look up at the two of them and shake his head.

\-----

Zhenya has always known he’ll end up marrying for politics. He’s never been so excited about it before. Andre is walking toward him from across the cathedral, and Zhenya is having a little trouble seeing him—it’s a very large cathedral, and there’s a lot of people in the way—but he’s feeling very sappy about the whole thing. He supposes he’s allowed that, it being his wedding day and all. As the two of them make their way to the altar, they get close enough that Zhenya can see Andre properly, and it’s—unexpected. At this point, Zhenya is used to thinking that Andre is quite attractive, but he tends to put him in the category of ‘cute’. Now, in his formal attire and wedding finery, he looks handsome.

They meet at the altar, in the middle of the cathedral, and Zhenya knows there’s thousands of people there to see the wedding, but he doesn’t pay them much attention. His focus is split between remembering what he needs to do, how good Andre looks, and trying not to trip. One of those things is much easier to concentrate on, and unfortunately it’s not the one that will save him from potential public humiliation.

Andre smiles at him as they join hands. Zhenya smirks, and says quietly, “Hand-holding again.” Andre’s smile widens. The priest says some things, and then she says some more things, and Zhenya honestly can’t say he hears any of it.

Shortly, she places a hand on Andre’s shoulder, and asks him for his vow. Andre looks straight into Zhenya’s eyes as he says, “I do so swear.” Zhenya is thankful that he can feel her hand on his shoulder, because otherwise, he probably would have forgotten that he had to give his own vow.

“I do so swear,” Zhenya says, and Andre is positively beaming now.

“You may now kiss,” the priest says, stepping back from them slightly. Zhenya moves toward Andre, and they meet for a small, soft kiss. When Zhenya starts to pull away, he sees a glint of mischief in Andre’s eyes. Suddenly, he’s moving to one side as Andre dips him into a showy production of a second kiss. Zhenya laughs against his lips as he hears mixed cheers and gasps. Once they’ve managed to stand back up without falling, Zhenya sees that the priest is hiding a smile behind her hand.

“May I present,” she says, “the new couple,” and spreads her hands behind them, as if offering them to the world. The crowd roars in approval, and Zhenya would still swear he can pick out Sasha’s voice specifically.

\-----

Andre is having a crisis. All he wants to do is dance with Evgeny, but they keep having to be polite and _talk_ to everyone. It’s awful. He tells Evgeny this the next chance he gets.

Evgeny laughs at him, but also looks around. “Hey, Marcus?” he says. Marcus seems to materialize out of thin air, which is basically how Andre assumes he always gets around.

“Yes? Is there something you need?” Marcus looks surprisingly cheerful, and Andre realizes it’s because he’s happy for them. Not that Andre thought Marcus didn’t care, but it’s unexpectedly touching to realize that he’s not worrying about decorum or trying to bully everyone into doing what they’re meant to, just enjoying the moment.

“Could you give us a few moments without talking to people?” Evgeny looks pointedly over at the space cleared for dancing, which has many occupants currently. Marcus smiles widely.

“I’m sure I can do that for you. Also, since I don’t think I’ve officially said it, congratulations.” He leans in to give Andre a hug, and then moves quickly toward the next group heading in their direction.

“Quick, he’s buying us time,” Andre hisses.

Evgeny laughs again. “Is dancing a secret mission now?”

“Yes!” answers Andre, dragging him toward the open floor.

When they get there, Evgeny looks at him, a soft expression on his face. All he says, however, is, “Lead or follow?”

Andre considers it for a brief moment, and then says, “Follow, this time. But you owe me another dance later.”

“I would dance with you as often as you want, Andre,” he says, painfully sincere. Andre wants to melt.

“You better,” he mutters, with nothing more to say.

**Author's Note:**

> kuzy’s laugh about the handshake is basically because they no homo a marriage promise, but i couldn’t effectively make that joke in the world i’ve set up
> 
> the actual marriage ceremony is super short and very simple, because it’s supposed to be religious, not political. the reception and the betrothal and everything else are the political parts. i just didn’t want to make up a whole religion for a wedding scene.
> 
> kuzy gives a short speech at the start of the wedding reception which, much like his parade “speech”, starts out very sweet, and ends very profane. many nobles present gasp in shock. everyone who’s ever met him is thoroughly unsurprised.
> 
> during that part of a wedding reception when the new couple greets everyone, nicky and ovi show up, and act perfectly normal (because they know it’s all a bit overwhelming) but then as they’re walking away, nicky’s like ‘now that you’re over your crush on me, i give you permission to call me papa again since it’s not weird now’ and andre wants to melt into the ground in embarrassment


End file.
